


Once

by fanfiction_trashpile



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Bar stuff, Dancing, Drinking, I LOVED WRITING THIS ONE, Non-Graphic Smut, fun times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 09:40:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22967869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfiction_trashpile/pseuds/fanfiction_trashpile
Summary: "His eyes and his lips and the butterflies in your chest list all the reasons you shouldn’t ever be around Javier Peña when you’ve had a bit to drink."
Relationships: Javier Peña/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	Once

You roll onto your back, groaning at the pounding in your head. The memories and nausea come in waves. 

_You had a long day of dead leads and paperwork. Your goals for the evening: the beer in your fridge and bad tv._

_Javi begged you to come out with them. Him and Steve. Take the night off. “Just this once.” His eyes and his lips and the butterflies in your chest listing all the reasons you shouldn’t ever be around Javier Peña when you’ve had a bit to drink._

_“You need to see the city. You’ve been here, what, two months? The drive from yours to the embassy doesn’t count.”_

_Steve’s insistence that you join him and Connie had you bar hopping with them much too early. You almost miss the comfort of your couch, which you exchanged for all this._

_The too-loud music. Whiskey and cigarette smoke. Dancing with Connie and then with Steve because Javi refused to._

_Until he didn’t._

_That fucking moustache. His grin under it. Lips on your neck. Hands on your waist._

_Murmured words in a foreign tongue against the bare skin of your shoulder._

_“I don’t speak Spanish, Peña.”  
_

_“Good.” His warm breath on your neck._

_Words falling from his lips. Most of them you don’t understand. Some you do._

_Amor._

_Hermosa._

_Quiero esto._

_It makes you bolder. Moving closer. Moving together. Dancing the fine line between colleagues and friends and everything dangerous on the other side._

_Stumbling home. Arms linked with Connie and Javi. Her peppering your face with kisses when you got to their building._

_“I’ll walk you the rest of the way.” Javi’s hand, warm in yours. His jacket around your shoulders._

_Tripping up the stairs to your flat. “Need some help, cariña?”_

_“You just want to know if you’re getting any.”  
_

_“Am I?” Joking tone. Hopeful eyes.  
_

_“Come inside, Javi.”_

The man in bed next to you rolled over, dark eyes opening into yours. “Morning.”

_Hands, lips, where they shouldn’t be. No music this time. No excuses.  
_

_“You’re so fucking beautiful.”  
_

_Better than every dream you had ever had about him. About this. The thoughts you try to ignore in the office. On stakeouts. Before he leaves for raids. Whenever you made fun of his tight pants and inability to button a shirt. Laying in bed, late at night, imagining his hands on you. His lips. Everything. This._

_“Look at me, amor. I wanna watch you.”_

_“_ You stayed.” you whisper into the dark. 

He nods, swinging his legs out of bed, your bed, with a groan, “Didn’t mean to. Last night was…” 

You’re not sure whether to be happy or heartbroken that he doesn’t know what to call it. That he didn’t mean to stay. 

“Yeah.” is your only response. 

You dress in silence. The ache feeds your guilt. 

“Want a ride to the embassy?” 

You hand him his jacket. He doesn’t look at you. You almost wish he would. Almost. Not seeing his eyes, it’s easier to pretend it didn’t happen. Like you weren’t staring into his eyes, hands in his hair, as you came apart in his arms hours earlier. 

“Sure. Thanks.”


End file.
